Auld Lang Syne
by Starrika
Summary: The beginning of a new year is always bittersweet. Ami and Zoisite share a moment as another year ends for Crystal Tokyo.


The snow was softly falling, blanketing the grounds with a hush, although Ami could hear sounds from the festivities outside when doors would open and close. Most of the palace was out on the grounds, celebrating the end of another year, but Ami had just finished working at the hospital – and she was never much for crowds, either. Instead, she had slipped into a cozy sweater and poured herself a glass of wine, enjoying the hour or two of quiet before the fireworks at midnight. Despite her busy day at the hospital, she wasn't tired. She had first perused her bookshelf, fingers trailing down cracked leather spines, trying to find just the right book to read at the end of the year. Nothing seemed to suit, though, and she gave up that pursuit after ten minutes. Idly sipping her wine, she went over to her music, but that search was fruitless as well.

Almost as if by habit, she found herself in a room down the hall, just off of Usagi and Mamoru's private rooms, a large library or study of some sort which was big enough to hold them all, and thus jokingly called the "War Room." There were books, of course, and aside from the large, heavy wood tables, Minako had brought in some plush sofas. Makoto always kept fresh flowers there, even in winter, and Rei contributed to maintaining a roaring fire in the oversized hearth. Even the Outer Senshi had left little touches, from artwork to music.

Mamoru had contributed his Shitennou.

At first, he had only brought them when they were discussing tactics and strategy, rightfully pointing out that they could help. Ami had been surprised to discover their present form and it had taken her some time to get used to the shadowy forms that Mamoru could call forth from the stones, with just a touch of his power. Over time, however, the stones were gradually incorporated into the room, nestled into an open display by the main table. She had told herself it was professional curiosity, calling them forth that first time, to ask halting questions about their imprisonment. The second time, she told herself it was compassionate concern for their mental health.

The third time and the fourth, she only called _him_.

It had become a habit, slipping into the room when it was unoccupied, to let her fingers glide over smooth, cold stone. And so, Ami found herself once again seated on the chaise nearest to them, tentative fingers reaching out with just a spark of power.

"Long day at the hospital?"

Ami looked down at the glass of wine in her hand, half empty, and gave a wry smile. "You could say that," she replied.

He sat, as much as a wraith could, on the chair next to her. "Tell me about your day."

His tone lacked the command it used to hold. It was softer now, matching the soft features of his face and gently curling hair. Where he had once been an open book, he was now harder to read – cautious with his feelings and cautious with his thoughts. He was now the quiet one, always listening.

Ami sighed, thinking for a moment about all the cases she had seen. "It was one of those days when you wonder at the inhumanity in people," she said finally, her voice subdued. Her fingers traced over the sharp facets of his stone. "I don't think I'll ever understand how someone could beat a child or stab their mother. Days like today make me realize how little things have really changed, for all our grand dreams."

"Bitterness doesn't suit you," Zoisite said after a moment, frowning slightly.

"Am I bitter?" Ami took a sip of her wine, mulling the thought over. "I don't _feel _bitter, precisely. More – tired, if that makes sense. Defeated, perhaps, but not bitter."

The silence lapsed between them. "I'm sorry."

Ami didn't respond immediately. She leaned back against the silk cushions of the chaise, momentarily closing her eyes and sighing. She listened to the crackle of the fire, wishing for the sun as she felt its heat on her face. When she finally opened her eyes again, she focused on Zoisite, who hadn't moved from his perch. "May I ask you something?"

He nodded, ever so briefly.

"Was it easy, betraying Endymion?" Her voice had no censure or sarcasm, but Zoisite still winced.

"I could try to explain, and say that at first, I thought I was acting in his best interest, but that would be rationalizing," he admitted. He paused, as if grappling with how to phrase his sentence. "I – yes. It was easy for me," he said. "I am compounding that lost faith yours," he added with a low, bitter laugh.

Ami shook her head. "I would have a low opinion of myself, if I were still so firmly fixed on the wrongs of the past."

"But you don't trust me. Us."

Ami paused, as if considering the matter, before shaking her head once more. "No, I don't."

"Then why do you keep coming back?" he finally asked.

"I don't know," Ami admitted.

The silence between them stretched longer, finally punctuated by a burst of fireworks. Ami rose and went over to the window, quietly observing the lights and the crowd. She could feel the temperature dip as he came up behind her and shivered slightly. "Happy New Year," she murmured.

"Many happy returns," he replied just as low, cold breath ghosting at the edge of her ear.


End file.
